


can you feel my heart

by plantgirl



Series: there is hunger in your eyes (not for love but for safety) [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Gen, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Michelle Jones, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantgirl/pseuds/plantgirl
Summary: It's that time of the year again and he once again has to send two kids to their certain death. It hurts so much to see them die, without a single chance.When he had begun mentoring, just after his own victory, he had tried to teach the kids something - he had spent time with them, gotten close to them. But this had made their deaths even more devastating, and after the fifth year Tony had sworn to himself that he wouldn't get close to the kids ever again - he just wanted to shield himself from more pain than he was already enduring.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> say hi to me on tumblr: https://sholovescookies.tumblr.com/

Tony stumbles into the train compartment, failing to keep himself upright, the alcohol in his system obscuring his vision.

He knows he should stay sober. the last couple of months Te had tried so hard to lay off the alcohol, but it's that time of the year again and he once again has to send two kids to their certain death. It hurts so much to see them die, without a single chance. 

When he had begun mentoring, just after his own victory, he had tried to teach the kids something - he had spent time with them, gotten close to them. But this made their deaths even more devastating, and after the fifth year Tony had sworn to himself that he wouldn't get close to the kids ever again - he just wanted to shield himself from more pain than he was already enduring.

He makes his way past the young woman from the Capitol - he already forgot her name, but they change every year, anyways - to grab himself another glass of something - anything - that contains alcohol.

Tony ignores the two kids sitting in the big fancy seats - or so he tries, because they look so miserable, their too small and too thin frames almost being swallowed by the deep red velvet.

His gaze is focused on the empty glass in his hands, and he pours himself another glass of brown liquid. When he wants to reach for the ice cubes, his hand only grabs air. At first, he thinks he is just too disoriented and he has somehow lost control of his own hand, but after another look into the bucket, he notices it is empty, and it is not the alcohol playing tricks on him.

“Where's the fucking ice?”, he roars turning around to glare at the woman from the Capitol. She looks shocked, her eyes open wide and her eyebrows raised. Tony almost expects her to say something, but she doesn't. Instead, she leans closer to the kids and whispers something to them. 

He groans. He's had enough of this mentor shit and decides that it is better if he went back to his own compartment to enjoy his drink, maybe yell at some of the servants to get what he wants.  


But a voice makes him stop and turn around.

“Mr. Stark?”

It's the boy, and Tony looks at him - really looks at him. The boy is thin, too fucking thin, and Tony can clearly see his collar bones poking out from under his skin, can see his small body shaking - he clearly hasn't had a proper meal in a long time. And he looks so young, and Tony thinks he might only be fourteen, maybe even younger. It hurts him to know that this boy won't stand a chance against the professionally trained tributes from the other districts.

“What's your problem, kiddo?”, Tony asks and stumbles over to the kids. The drink in his hands spills a little and the liquid now coats his fingers, making Tony scrunch up his nose in disgust because he knows how sticky it will become when it dries, and it currently looks like he won't be able to wash his hands for a while, not the way the boy looks at him.

Both kids flinch when he lets himself fall onto the seat across from them, and his drink spills even more. He curses, watching the alcohol drip from the bottom of the glass onto his dark blue dress pants.  


“Mr. Stark, do you have any tips for us how to stay alive? How to have a chance?”

The boy has a pleading look on his face, and Tony musters him for a second before taking a sip from his glass. Silence. The woman from the Capitol clears her throat to get his attention. Tony rolls his eyes.  


“Mr. Stark?”, the boy tries again, this time even softer than before, and Tony could swear he just imagined that voice but the boy is looking at him expectantly.

He groans and leans forward a bit so his forearms are rested on his knees. “Listen, kid. You don't have a chance. And I can't tell you how to have one. You either know how to kill people or you don't. It's that simple.”  


The boy stays silent, nodding slowly. But the girl, oh the girl. Tony had not thought that she'd say anything, but she does. She stands up and is at Tony's throat in a matter of seconds. Her hands are laid around his neck, threatening to press harder. He shudders out a breath.

The woman from the Capitol shrieks and Tony almost wants to let out a chuckle. Of course, she would be shocked. There's nothing such as violence in the Capitol, Tony had learned. That's why they took so much joy in seeing young children slaughter each other - the violence was romanticized, portrayed as the only way of survival for their nation.

There is pure desperation in the girl's dark eyes, and Tony knows that look - it's the same look all the kids have in their eyes, every year. But this girl is different. She so desperately wants to stay alive that she would do anything. 

“Why the fuck won't you help us?”, she bites out, “Is this all a joke to you? Do you think we want to be here? Do you think we want to die?”

Tony gently guides her hands away from his throat and takes a deep breath. 

“How about you tell me your names first, okay? That would be a great start into all of this.” Tony knows he is slurring the words. Not bad, but enough for even the kids to know that he is drunk. He hopes they won't ask him about it. 

“I'm MJ,” the girl grumbles, brushing a strand of curly hair behind her ear. Tony nods. She's got his respect for standing up against him, and he already knows that he will cry when her death is announced - she has already burned herself into his brain with what she did.

The boy is a lot quieter than MJ, and a lot more miserable. His voice is small and soft when he says, “I'm Peter,” and Tony knows he won't survive past the first day - he is too soft, too pure for such cruel games. 

Tony's heart is pounding up to his throat, and he swallows. He did not prepare anything to help them - he hasn't looked into the other tributes yet, he hasn't informed himself who the other mentors would be. Hell, he hasn't been to the Capitol in years, hasn't made contact with potential sponsors. He feels bad, but he knows that all the years before, he had not cared - or at least not admitted to himself that he cared - so why does he care now?

He empties his glass with one sip and puts the glass down on the floor next to his chair. His fingers are still sticky from the drink, so he puts them in his mouth to suck them clean - there is no point in wasting perfectly good liquor, even if it had been spilled over his hand.

MJ rolls her eyes and turns her head to look out of the window. The landscape of District 12 flies past the windows in a blur and Tony is sure that if he looked out of the window for longer than a few seconds at a time, he would not be able to keep himself from vomiting.

Peter leans forward a little and looks Tony directly in the eyes. “Do you have any tips for us to stay alive? I'm begging you, we need your help,” the boy pleas, making Tony sigh.

“Kiddo, I don't know you enough to tell you how to stay alive. You just gotta turn off your brain and kill people. Overthinking will get you killed,” he almost feels bad for disappointing the kid, but he does not know what to tell them. He stands up and walks over to the liquors again. The glass he used before is long forgotten and Tony just reaches for the first best bottle, removing the cork with his teeth while he grabs one of the colorful pastries which are originally meant for the tributes with his free hand. This earns him a disapproving look from both MJ and the Capitol lady, but he doesn’t care. Not really.

He makes his way over to the sliding door that leads in the direction of his own compartment. 

“Hey, missy!”, he yells at the Capitol lady, “How long until we’re there?”

The young woman sighs and runs a hand through her bubblegum pink wig. “We’ll arrive in approximately eight hours, Mr. Stark.”

Tony nods, “Send the kids over in six hours. I wanna talk to them, alone.” He salutes to the kids before he exits the compartment. 

The corridor outside seems to move as he stumbles to his room, and he has to hold on to the wall not to find himself on the floor. His door slides open after a few seconds and he lets himself fall into the soft blankets of his bed. One of the few things he thanks the Capitol for - comfortable beds. He can't imagine his life without all the gifts he had received from the capitol anymore - alcohol had become his coping mechanism, beds his favorite place. The riches he had earned he had used for fun in the short amount of time he had lived in the Capitol. He still asks himself what made him return to the poor, miserable District 12. He doesn't know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely dreaded writing this chapter. I thought inspiration to write would come easily, and it did. Just not for this chapter. I wrote three whole chapters set some time after this one, but couldn't bring this one to an end. That's why the end is rushed. And I'm sorry! But I've been sitting on this chapter for one and a half weeks and I just wanted it to be done. I will rework the end at some point, I promise! Just not now.

There is somebody banging on his door when Tony wakes up. His head is buzzing, but he has already grown accustomed to the feeling after waking up day after day with the same headache. He sits up and looks over to his door - it’s an automatic sliding door, so shouldn’t whoever was standing on the other side be able to come in without any problems?

He lifts himself up from the bed and notices the opened liquor bottle has fallen over and the alcohol has spilled all over the floor.

“Fucking hell," he curses and runs a hand through his hair. 

The banging on his door continues, and he walks over to see who is annoying him. The door won’t open. He groans. The locking mechanism. He must have activated it when he came back to his room. 

Quickly he enters the code to unlock the door, and it opens just a few seconds later. Capitol lady and Peter are standing across from him, but MJ is nowhere to be seen.

Capitol lady scrunches her nose at the smell of alcohol coming from Tony's room and gives him a disapproving look, but Peter seems blissfully unaware of it. 

Tony takes a step out of his room and looks around, “Where's the girl?”

Capitol lady sighs, “She doesn't want to see you. I tried to reason with her, told her that it is crucial she talk to you, but she refused. I don't know what else to do about her.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I can understand her. Wouldn't wanna come to meet me, either. Don't blame the kid.”

Then he turns to look at Peter. “How about we have a chat? Just you and me?”

The boy looks a little unsure, but he nods. Capitol lady opens her mouth to say something, but Tony stops her. “It's okay. Look, I'm not- I'm not drunk anymore. I just wanna talk to him, yeah?”

She looks at Peter who gives her a small but reassuring smile and she turns on her heels to go back to where Tony presumes they came from.

Peter looks at him with wide eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tony steps out of his room and into the hallway. “Follow me,” he says sternly and leads Peter to the back of the train. 

The last compartment is some kind of lounge with dark leather seats and floor length windows. A minibar is set up near the entrance of the compartment, and Tony strolls over to it to pour himself a glass of the pink cherry-flavoured liquor that is standing the closest to him while Peter plops down on one of the leather seats at the far end of the compartment. Tony reaches for the ice, and this time his fingers come in contact with the frozen cubes. He fills his glass to the brim with the ice, then makes his way over to Peter and sits down next to him.

“You want some?”, he asks, offering Peter the pink liquid. The boy shakes his head, furrowing his brows, “I don't drink, sir.”

“Right, right. I shouldn't offer alcohol to a little kid. I'm sorry,” he sets the glass down on the small glass coffee table in front of them.

Peter seems offended by that comment. “Little kid? Come on, Mr. Stark, I'm seventeen!”

Tony splutters at that. “Seventeen? You're joking, aren't you?”

Peter laughs. A real, genuine laugh. Tony likes seeing Peter this way. If only they didn't meet like this, if only they weren't on their way to the Capitol, if only Peter wouldn't be put into the arena in a week. Tony joins in, laughing along whole-heartedly. 

It takes the two of them a while to calm down. The tension between them seems to have shrunk, and Tony almost forgets where they are until Peter gets serious again.

"Mr. Stark, how'd you feel when you were a tribute? Did you have hope that you'd return home?"

Tony stiffens. When he was a tribute - he never really did want to go home, but he was too scared of dying. He had already lost everything, so he had no reason to go back. But once he was in the arena his brain just shut down, and he wanted to survive.

"No, I didn't have any hope. I, uhm, I actually thought I was-" Tony cuts himself off for a moment, "-I thought I was going to die. I hoped I was going to die, actually. Just- I was too scared of actually dying." He chokes on his words and tries to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

Peter just looks at him with wide eyes before stammering, "I'm so sorry Mr. Stark. I didn't want to-"

"It's okay, kiddo. That was a long time ago. Nothing you should worry about now."

Both of them sit in silence for a few moments when the door to the compartment slides open.

"You wanted to talk?"

MJ and Capitol lady are standing in the doorway. Capitol lady has a triumphant grin on her face which makes Tony groan. He gets up from his seats and walks over to the two intruders.

"Why can't you just leave the kid alone?" he asks loudly, which makes Peter flinch. 

Capitol lady stares at him, her eyebrows drawn together. "Because you're their mentor. And both of them should get to talk to you about the games. About strategies. You can't just talk to one and say you don't care about the other!"

"Listen, Capitol lady-"

"My name is Ludmilla!"

"-Ludmilla. If little miss is-this-all-a-joke-to-you decides she doesn't wanna talk to me, that's fine. I can't make her. And neither can you. Just let her decide for herself, goddamnit."

MJ rolls her eyes and plops down next to Peter. "Could the two of you please just calm down? I decided to come here, on my own. I don't wanna listen to you argue. Just tell me how the hell I can stay alive."

Tony looks at her, dumbfounded, "But you said you didn't wanna talk to me?"

"I don't," MJ dead-pans, "But I wanna listen to what you have to say."

Tony hums and takes a step closer to Capitol lady - Ludmilla, "Do we have any of the tapes from the last couple of years I could show them?"

Ludmilla nods and disappears for a few minutes before returning with a box of small data discs. "Here are a couple of discs from up to ten years back, You think this will help you?"

"Of course. Thanks, Capitol lady."

Tony shows MJ and Peter various scenes from the discs, explaining certain strategies, shelter ideas, and killing methods to them. He would rather talk to them about anything else, but he knows that this is his duty, and this year he feels the need to fulfill this duty properly.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony sits in one of the backrooms specially designed for the mentors - he hasn't been in one for over twenty years - Ludmilla right beside him. They had left the kids in the hands of the stylists after arriving in the Capitol, and Tony hopes that those stylists know what they are doing - he can't bear to see another set of boring coal miner suits or anything of that kind. Ludmilla promised him that they were the best stylists she knows and that she handpicked them for the tributes this year. Tony doubts this, but he doesn't want to start a fight with her.

She is clutching his hand excitedly, and if he wasn't more focused on the big screen in front of them he would have already started yelling at her.

The screen shows Caesar, this year in dark red, and behind him the still empty parade way. In contrast, the stands are packed with people from the Capitol - Tony doesn't remember ever seeing so many different colors in one place.

The music starts playing - no matter how wrong the setting and the intentions, Tony will always be impressed by this moment - and the first chariot can be seen. The District 1 tributes are both dressed in in sleek, black clothing adorned with sparkly crystals, their chariot pulled by just as sleek and black horses. Behind follow the other tributes, and it is hard for Tony to make out anything anymore because all the colors and costumes mix together, and he wishes he didn't drink that much alcohol on the train ride, wishes he didn't drink alcohol at all - but he knows that it's a losing game.

Ludmilla is shaking with excitement and actually lets out a shriek when she catches a glimpse of MJ and Peter. Tony doesn't see them at first - he is still distracted by the others, especially by the District 5 tributes and their glowing gowns - but when he sees them, he almost forgets how to breathe. The kids are not the showiest, but Tony doesn't care because they're his kids and he's got this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach he can't place. Both kids are wearing all black bodysuits with no sleeves paired with black working boots, beautifully crafted pieces of coal and crystals glued to their arms, coal dust smeared all over their faces and a small black crown sitting on top of their heads. They look absolutely breathtaking, and Tony wants to personally thank the stylists that actually put work and creativity into those outfits. He remembers his own parade outfit - nothing more than a coal miner's outfit with dark patches of coal dust on his clothes.

Caesar seems to completely overlook the District 12 tributes, too blown away by the fantastic work the stylists for the other Districts did, complementing the stunning outfits that this year brought.

"They look amazing, don't they?", Ludmilla asks with a big smile plastered on her face, "I personally talked to the stylists and told them some of my ideas. Not anything they actually did, but I guess I inspired them with the mention of bodysuits."

Tony nods, still not able to tear his gaze away from the screen. The chariots are now all standing in one line beside each other and a camera gives the viewers a shot of all the tributes' faces. He is - once again - taken aback by both MJ and Peter; with the camera directly shoving their faces he can see that there is not simply just coal dust smeared over their faces, but it is strategically smeared across the upper half of their faces, eyeliner frames both their eyes with small crystals glued to their eyelids. They don't even look human anymore, but rather like young gods. Both of them are smiling and waving to the crowd, and Tony hopes that their parade looks have impressed a few sponsors.

President Snow steps onto his balcony high above the tributes and waves to them and the crowd of people in the background. The music falls silent and he clears his throat into the microphone that is standing in front of him.

The president's speech is short and nothing Tony hasn't heard a thousand times. He disappears just as quickly as he arrived, and the chariots stay another minute or so for the cameras to film them from every possible angle before they turn around and pass the masses of spectators again, drawing more cheers and screams from them.

Tony stands up to leave the backroom - he wants to talk to the kids. Ludmilla's eyes are still glued to the screen, and Tony wonders what has the Capitol so entranced with the tributes and the games. He doesn't know. He opens and closes the door quietly, careful not to disturb her.

Outside the room there are stylists and mentors and the first tributes rushing around, trying to get out of their uncomfortable outfits and trying to wash off the tons and tons of makeup on their faces. He waits because he can't see MJ and Peter anywhere, and the chariot from District 8 just pulls into the hall with their flowy costumes. The girl has her hair fixed in place with giant needles and Tony is worried she might stab someone with them.

The chariots from District 9, 10, 11 follow and MJ and Peter still are nowhere to be seen. The doors close. Tony decides to move, and he makes his way between all the people. He hasn't been surrounded by this many people since his days in the Capitol, and he begins to sweat. It makes him nervous to have so many strangers around him, and his eyes dart to the far end of the room where the exit is located.

He flinches when somebody grabs his arm. His head yanks around and he sees Peter - still in his black bodysuit, crystals and coal still glued to his skin, the crown on his head slightly tilted to the right - who is speaking to him. But all Tony can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, the noises around him nothing more than weird static sounds. He feels sudden pain in his chest, right where his heart is, and his left hand comes to fist the fabric that lays on top of his skin there - the pain reminds him of when he got shot with an arrow in the arena, and he almost expects blood to soak through his white dress shirt. He looks down to his fist and to his shirt, but all he sees are some stains from the liquor he drank before and some wrinkles in the fabric. His legs go weak and start to tingle and he needs to sit down, needs to be left alone, needs to close his eyes for a moment because everything is just too much.

The cold concrete floor is rough under his hands, there is glitter everywhere, scraps of fabric and feathers and who-knows-what littering the floor. The pain in his chest becomes more intense and he wants to lay down, curl up in a ball and- somebody slaps his cheek and suddenly everything is loud again, the noises are no longer just static but real, actual noises and his eyes focus on what is going on around him again. MJ is standing above him, her hand just inches from his face, and Peter is standing behind her, and he looks absolutely mortified - Tony wonders what he must be thinking happened - while Ludmilla is clutching his hands.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he mumbles while getting himself to stand up. His legs are still a bit wobbly and his chest still aches, but he tries to conceal it. The others have already seen enough weakness from him.

MJ takes a step back and musters him critically. Her eyes seem to drill into him, take his every fiber apart, and it makes him feel vulnerable. But she doesn't say anything, and Tony is endlessly thankful for that.

"Let's get you kids to your apartment. You can get out of your costumes there," Ludmilla says quietly but sternly, "I think it would be better if we left."

The kids and Tony follow her as she walks in the direction of the exit. A few stylists join them on the way, and they start to quickly take off the kids' costumes - crystals are pulled off their skin, their crowns collected from their heads, their incredibly tight bodysuits loosened - and Tony is impressed by their efficiency.

Ludmilla throws the doors to the training center open and leads their small group to the elevators. MJ and Peter look around with big eyes and Tony remembers that they haven't been here before, that they don't know this building he stays in every year, where he stays to watch his tributes die.

The elevator doors open soundlessly and the group steps inside. Awkward silence hangs in the air between them, and Tony doesn't dare to open his mouth - too big is his fear of saying something wrong, of messing things up after whatever just happened to him. He doesn't remember ever having chest pains of that kind, and he definitely doesn't remember ever breaking down like this.

The doors open again with a 'ping' and they all leave the elevator.

They march over to the big, wooden apartment doors - the only thing that reminds Tony remotely of District 12. He wonders why there might only be a wooden door, not a modern sliding door, maybe a glass door. Maybe it's so the tributes feel a little more at home, but that doesn't even make sense because everything else in the apartment is modern and sleek and screams Capitol.

They step inside the apartment and Tony looks over to MJ and Peter. If they made big eyes before at the training center, then now their eyes might pop out of their skulls. The apartment seems to stun them.

"This is all yours for the next week," Ludmilla commentates, a small smile playing on her lips. She seems pleased with the kids' reaction.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony wakes up to the sound of creaking floorboards. At first, he thinks he is just imagining things and wants to roll over and close his eyes again, but then he hears it again and he is a hundred percent sure that there is someone walking around the penthouse. He gets out of his bed and makes his way over to the living area. The wooden floorboards are cold underneath his bare feet.

  
The room is dark and quiet, and Tony almost turns around again. But he spots a slim figure sitting on the floor by the window front.

  
He pads over to the figure and recognizes that it is Peter - he is shaking, and Tony can hear small sobs coming from the boy. He hesitates for a second, deliberating on whether or not he should approach the boy. But he sees him shaking, sobs rippling through his body, and he decides that Peter needs company.

  
“Hey, kiddo. Can't sleep?”, he asks gently, and Peter turns his head to look at him. There are tears in his eyes which he tries to hide by rubbing them away with the sleeve of his too big shirt.

  
“May I?”, he continues, pointing to the floor next to Peter. The boy nods and Tony sits down, his legs crossed in front of him.

  
Peter is staring out of the window. Tony does, too. A wave of nostalgia overcomes him, and he remembers all those years ago when he was a tribute himself - the fear he had when he was sitting in this very same room at just fifteen years old; he remembers Pepper, who was even younger than him - she'd cry herself to sleep every night in the room next to his; he remembers how terrified he was the day the games began - he'd barely slept that night, and he'd thought he'd never see the world outside the arena again. But then he won, and after his victory, he'd stayed in the Capitol for a while, had spent his money on parties and liquor and drugs. He'd sold his body to both men and women - whoever would take him - and thought he'd find love that way. He never did.

 

“Mr. Stark?”, Peter asks quietly, facing Tony, who lets out a small sigh.

  
“Yes, kiddo?”

  
He looks at Peter and sees that he is still crying. His one hand is hidden somewhere in the sleeve of his shirt, the other is trying to wipe away the seemingly never-ending stream of tears from his cheeks. Something in Tony's stomach drops and he feels the urge to wrap his arms around the boy and tell him that everything is going to be fine. But it isn't, so he doesn't. He knows it and Peter does, too. Nothing is going to be fine. So they just sit in silence for a couple of moments until Peter speaks up again.

  
“Do you think I have a chance? To go home, I mean?”

  
Tony swallows hard. He doesn't think that Peter has a chance, no. He's seen the other tributes. A lot of them are big and muscular and could kill Peter in an instant.

  
The Capitol's favorite, the boy from District 2, is almost twice the size of him and has allegedly been training to win since he was ten years old - now at eighteen, he has muscles in all the right places and a handsome face - exactly what the Capitol likes; a perfect potential victor.

  
And Peter - what is he to the Capitol? Just a too shy and too thin little boy. He's got a pretty face, yes, but is that enough to get the Capitol to like him? He doesn't even look his age - Tony himself thought he was fourteen or even younger, not the seventeen years he is old.

  
The interview with Caesar is tomorrow - they have already been in the Capitol for a week, it still seems so surreal - and Tony still has to talk to the stylists about the concept they are going for. They'd have to set up a persona for both Peter and MJ to market them to the public. And Tony still has no clue - what should they make of MJ, who is too stubborn for her own good? What should they make of Peter, who is just too nice to be seen as a threat? Tony doesn't know, and he is on the verge of going insane.

  
What did they make of Pepper and him back then? Pepper had been portrayed as the innocent little girl that she was - small, pretty, scared. She'd never been seen as a threat to anybody. She had been dressed in a deep blue dress, a corset around her already tiny waist to make her appear even thinner than she already was.

  
Tony himself had been portrayed as the playboy - flirtatious, cocky, confident. They'd given him a dress shirt that was only buttoned up halfway, low enough to tease the viewers and high enough to hide his slim frame, his visible ribs, his almost caved in stomach.

  
“Mr. Stark, are you alright?”, Peter asks again and Tony finds himself back sitting next to the boy instead of lost in his thoughts. A single tear is running down his cheek and he quickly wipes it away. He clears his throat and gets up from the floor, signaling Peter to do the same with a small motion of his hand.

  
The boy does so and is standing in front of Tony, still shaking, snot and tears smeared all over his face.

  
“Go clean yourself up, kiddo. And then try to catch some sleep, okay? You've got a lot to do tomorrow.”

  
Peter mumbles a quiet, “Yes, Mr. Stark” and disappears into the darkness that is the penthouse, leaving his mentor alone.

  
Tony runs a hand over his face, then lets his gaze wander over the city once again - and almost loses himself in his memories again. But he stops himself, shaking as if he wanted to shake off the thoughts that plague him.

  
"Get yourself together, Stark," he mumbles to himself while pacing over to his room. The faint sound of running water is coming from somewhere down the hall - Tony hopes that Peter actually goes to sleep and doesn't decide to roam around the apartment again. He would hear it.

  
He sits down on his bed, ready to tug himself back in and fall asleep again. But from the corner of his eye he sees a bottle on his nightstand - one of the liquid bottles he secretly took from the train - and he knows that he shouldn't, he promised himself that he wouldn't, but the bottle looks so appealing and he just feels miserable and a sip or two of alcohol could make him feel better, make him forget his worries. So he reaches for the bottle and pops it open. His hands are shaking again, just like Peter did, sitting in front of the window when he brings the liquor to his lips. He is scared he might spill it, just like on the train. But he doesn't, so he gulps down the liquid. It burns in his throat and his brain is begging him to stop, to put down the bottle, but he keeps the bottle at his lips until it is empty.

  
His head is now buzzing and he feels a little dizzy. It only takes seconds until his vision goes black and he passes out.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony is standing backstage with Ludmilla and Antigone, watching the small screen above their heads. MJ is currently on stage with Caesar, talking about her goals for the future. Tony thinks it's cruel, making the kids talk about their hopes and dreams for the future when everybody knows that most of them will not make it that far.

MJ looks stunning in her midnight blue gown and her dark curls falling softly onto her shoulders. Her outfit reminds Tony a lot of Pepper, and he has to forcefully suppress his memories not to break down again at the thought of his former friend.

"You did a great job on her outfit, Antigone," Ludmilla compliments the stylist. Her eyes light up at the compliment, and she does a little bow. Tony nods in agreement.

"What has surprised you most about the Capitol?", Caesar asks on stage, and MJ gives him a big - but definitely fake - smile.

"That's a hard question, Caesar. But I would say the people. Back at home I thought all of you were alienated and above all of us, but you're all really nice and welcoming."

Caesar laughs and the audience cheers. Tony knows that none of her answers are completely genuine, but Antigone has prepared her for the interview and he cannot thank the stylist enough. She did a great job at getting through to MJ and understanding her and Tony can only dream of being such a compassionate human being.

He watches Caesar end the interview by standing up and holding MJ's hand in the air, gaining loud applause and cheering from the audience. She walks off the stage, smiling and waving at the camera and the audience, and Tony asks himself how she could act so charmingly yet be so cold and stubborn in person.

"Next is the brave young man from District 12. Welcome with me - Peter Parker!"

Tony watches Peter walk to Caesar on the stage, waving and blowing kisses to the people in the audience. If he himself only was a spectator and not the boy's mentor, he would have madly fallen in love with the charismatic young man on stage. Peter is wearing a matching suit to MJ's dress - midnight blue with a golden tie and a white dress shirt. He looks like someone everybody in the Capitol would like to love, and Tony almost hopes his fears come true and Peter dies in the games, in fear he would end up like him if he won - prostituting himself for the rich to get what he wants, to forget the hell he went through in the arena.

Both Peter and Caesar sit down on the red plushy seats they put on stage to match Caesar's hair color. Tony finds it ridiculous. Ludmilla told him it is art, and he just snorted at that comment. The difference between what is art in the Capitol and what is art in any of the districts does vary greatly.

"So, Peter. Let's begin, shall we?"

Peter nods and Tony can see that the boy is nervous, and it makes him nervous, too. Tony has spent the last few days doing nothing but preparing Peter for this interview - they've thought up answers to so many questions, thought of how he should behave in different situations and how he himself wants the public to see him. And Tony does not want him to be too nervous to stick to their plan.

"First of all, how are you tonight? How has the Capitol been treating you?", Caesar asks, a big smile plastered on his face.

"Oh, uhm, I'm fine, thank you," Peter stutters out, "And, uhm, everybody has been really nice to me. I felt truly welcome here."

"That sounds great, Peter. Can you give our viewers a little more insight into your life here as a tribute? Anything that stood out to you about our beautiful city?"

Peter scratches the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable - Tony doesn't know if it's because he has to lie on national television or because he cannot remember the answers he had to memorize.

"I really like our apartment, it has a beautiful view over the whole city. Especially at night."

That's not what he was supposed to say - he should be talking about the interesting foods and the colorful clothing and the modern technology, not about the view out of his window, not about what happened last night between him and Tony; it means that Tony could lose his position as a mentor and he could be hunted down by the Capitol for getting too close to one of the tributes - Peter is still a kid after all, and as long as he is not a victor what Tony did is a major felony.

"Yeah? What was the occasion you watched the Capitol by night?"

"Oh, just, I couldn't sleep and my mentor kinda, uhm, talked to me. About the games, the Capitol, you know. Told me there is much more to the Capitol than what I've seen so far. And what I've seen already was so much! I'm especially in love with your clothes!"

Smooth save. Tony hopes the audience focuses more on the second part of Peter's statement than the first, or else he'd be fucked. Completely.

"Let's talk about your points then. You got six points from the game makers, how does that make you feel?", Caesar asks, and Tony is incredibly thankful for the change of topic.

"I am fine with that, really," Peter stammers, "I know that I could have done better. But I could have done a lot worse, too."

Caesar hums, "And what skill did you want to show off?"

Peter gulps, "I, uh- I wanted to show off some knife throwing. But the knives were a lot heavier than I expected!"

The audience is laughing and Tony can see Peter visibly relax.

"So what happened with those too-heavy-knives?"

"I dropped them. On my foot. Not that I hurt myself or anything, but it certainly was a shock!"

More laughing from the audience. Tony has to suppress a little chuckle, too. Peter certainly is a very charismatic young man. "

So what did you do after you dropped the knives?", Caesar asks further.

"I threw the knives, did not really hit the targets. I thought I'd get maybe three points for that debacle. But I got six, and that is more than generous for what I did there!"

Caesar laughs and puts a hand on Peter's shoulder. "That certainly was something we all would have loved to witness."

The audience cheers in agreement and Peter smiles. Tony can see that the boy is still a little nervous, but much less so than before.

"Now, a more personal question for you," Caesar says, a bit more serious than before, "The Capitol is dying to know: is there a special someone waiting for you back home?"

Tony almost wants to gag at that question. He knew beforehand that they would ask this question - of course they would, Peter has a pretty face and he looks so young, nobody in the Capitol could resist such a pretty boy. He might not be their favorite - Tony knows because he has seen the crowd react to the other tributes, has seen the question be given to almost all the tributes that look attractive, especially the boys - but that does not mean that they wouldn't lust after someone like Peter.

"To be honest with you Caesar, there is a special someone in my life," Peter says, and Tony can hear the uncertainty in his voice, see his shoulders tense, and he knows that everything is nothing more than just an act, yet it makes him feel sick. Why would kids their age have to stage being in love just to attract sponsors and stay alive for maybe a day or two longer? Caesar now seems very interested in what Peter has to say - he leans in closer to him and looks him deep in the eye.

"Then you are going to win the games for her and she will love you forever," he says with a big smile on his face and the audience is screaming with joy.

Peter shakes his head, his gaze locked to the floor - Tony has to admit, the boy is a great actor - before he whispers, "That won't help me, actually."

MJ has reached the backstage area and is marching towards the small group of people huddled together to watch what is happening on stage. Her feet are bare, the golden shoes she wore are now dangling from her left hand and the tights she has on are already ripped open in several places.

"Michelle, what happened to your outfit?", Antigone wails and hurries over to MJ, attempting to save what is left of the tights.

"I hate it," the girl simply says and lets the shoes fall to the ground. Then she starts to peel off her jewelry as well as the fake eyelashes and small crystals glued to her face. Antigone stares at all her hard work scattered on the ground and Tony can almost see her heart break at the sight.

"Why wouldn't winning help you?", Caesar asks on stage, one eyebrow raised at Peter. Tony has to bite his tongue not to snarl out anything that might offend any of the people from the Capitol - he knows he would be too loud and people that weren't supposed to hear him would and all of their careful planning would go to waste. It had taken a lot of tip-toeing around MJ, a lot of patience and nerves - especially on Tony's part - and a lot of convincing Peter that it would guarantee him at least a chance at surviving.

"Because," Peter pauses before he continues, drawing in a deep breath, "Because we came here together."

The whole audience gasps and Caesar looks completely shocked. MJ turns to look at the screen, her eyes furious. "What did he just say?"

Ludmilla puts a hand on her shoulder, but MJ slaps her hand away and instead comes closer to Tony to stand directly in front of him, her dark eyes venomous with anger - Tony understands, he knows how sick this act is, but he wants them to survive - and she almost spits her words at him as she says, "So that's what all that was about this morning. All that secret-keeping, that Peter-wants-to-train-alone-bullshit. You planned this - you want me to look vulnerable!"

"That's not it, MJ!", Ludmilla pleads, "We just want to help you."

"I don't need your help! You make me look weak!"

"We make you look desirable," Tony intervenes, putting a hand on MJ's shoulder to keep her from running off and doing who-knows-what. She scrunches her face up in disgust, and he fears she might actually spit at him or do something similar, but she does nothing of that sort. Instead she takes a few steps back to stand next to Antigone, who precautiously grabs her hand to make sure she doesn't run away.

"That is rather unfortunate," Caesar says to Peter and pats his shoulder, "I wish your love stood under a different star. I think I can speak in the name of the whole Capitol when saying this."

The audience cheers in agreement, and some of them even have tears in their eyes at Peter's confession to Caesar. Tony feels strangely proud of the reactions their scheme is drawing from the Capitol, although he wishes they would not even have to think about manipulating others like this. The interview wraps up with a pat on the back and a half-hearted hug from Caesar and the loudest cheers from the audience Tony has heard in a long time. Peter walks off the stage and comes into the backroom where everybody is waiting for him. He has already loosened his tie and the jacket is no longer hugging his body but is laid over his arm, careful not to crinkle it up.

"You did a great job out there, kiddo," Tony says and pulls the boy into a loose hug - he doesn't want anybody getting suspicious after what Peter said on stage about last night.

"Really, great job," MJ mimics Tony sarcastically, shooting both of them an angry look.

"MJ, I can explain," Peter tries to say but MJ doesn't let him talk, "I already know. But it was a fucking shitty idea, okay? You should have talked to me first!"

Peter looks at her like a kicked a puppy and Tony feels responsible for MJ's bad mood, so he motions her to come over to them with his hand. She does, slowly, sulking, but she does.

Tony puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close as well. "I'm proud of the two of you."

Behind them Ludmilla coos and Antigone fans her eyes as if she was trying to suppress tears - Tony thinks it's ridiculous because he is just hugging the kids, and he barely even has ten hours left until he has to say goodbye to them and they're shipped off to the arena.

"Let's get you out of those clothes and get something to eat," Tony says and pats both of them on the back before gently pushing them both in Antigone's direction. Said woman nods and leads the two teenagers back to the dressing rooms.

Ludmilla smiles at Tony, "You're a good mentor, you know?" She makes her way out of the backstage area, already speaking to the cooks upstairs through her small, almost invisible headset she wears all the time, ordering them to prepare a feast for their tributes, and Tony slowly follows her.


End file.
